


Searchlight

by lammermoorian



Series: Project Freelancer [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Possible violence, Project Freelancer AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lammermoorian/pseuds/lammermoorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean, rogue agents of the defunct military organization, Project Freelancer, which paired top soldiers with aggressive smart AI programs, are now AWOL, running from UNSC and Insurrectionists alike, and dealing with the fallout of the Director's psychotic experiments. /// In this installment, Sam gets his AI while Dean hovers and fights off parasitic, so-called friends.</p><p>(Part 2/? of a larger story)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Searchlight

**Author's Note:**

> Agent Illinois is Brady, if anyone cares to know.

"Congrats, Kansas." Illinois sidles up to Dean, bracing his shoulder against the window of the OR, casually, as if they’re best friends. They’re not. He’s Sam’s friend - and only because Sam makes friends so damn easily. Dean would like nothing more than to sink his fist into the motherfucker’s smug face, Sam’s feelings be damned. Even Cas wants him to do it, the usually calm AI sending a spike of irritation through his temple, compounding his already shitty headache. _You and me both, buddy._ “California’s lucky to get two. Well, Colorado and Nevada both want to beat the shit out of him, but that was pretty much inevitable, wasn’t it? They’d been waiting months for implantation - ”

For a self-confessed friend, he’s not really all that concerned. “Go away, Illinois.”

He rolls his eyes. “Come on, man,” he sighs, all his fake concern evaporating in the face of frustration. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

"Yeah, well, it falls a bit flat. Go dick around on the training floor, see if you can finally beat your best from last year."

"Hey, fuck you, Kansas." Illinois jabbed a finger in his face. "Just because i’m not super special fucking awesome and I wasn’t blessed by the most high and mighty Director like you and your brother doesn’t mean I’m not capable of beating your ass into a pulp. And neither are colorado and nevada. You better watch your fucking back.” He bumps into Dean on his way out, shove backed by the full weight of the armor. Maybe it’s the headache, maybe it’s the fact that he’s about to vomit from worry, but Illinois makes him want to rip someone’s throat out, and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

"Sam was behind you on the waiting list at one point, right?" Dean asks over his shoulder. He can see Illinois’ reflection in the window glass, stopped dead in the doorway, and he grins. "It’s the first time you’ve ever been ahead of him in anything. He beat you out at school, in basic training, and now this… damn, Illinois. He’s always been just one step ahead of you, hasn’t he? Sucks to suck, I guess." He turns over his shoulder, letting brotherly pride and his desperate need to school this little bastard swirl together into one satisfying tirade. Sam might hate him for a while, but he can make other friends. Better friends. "Now my brother’s getting two AI, and you still have none." Dean whistles lowly, a mockery of shock. "Guess you’ll never catch up, eh? And isn’t that just a damn shame."

Illinois growls, punching the door frame as he stalks away, but dean’s satisfaction is short lived as the nerves rush back into him like electricity, and he all but presses his nose into the glass of the OR, unwilling to take his eyes off of his brother for even a second. It’s been years, and there’s no fire, but worry over Sam is written into his goddamn DNA at this point. His armor is too heavy and his palms are slick with sweat, legs shaking. God, that’s his brother in there, his kid brother at the mercy of the surgeons and their scalpels floating in zero-g, in the hands of the Director. The goddamned Director. Dean is absolutely going to be sick.

"I wouldn’t worry," Castiel interrupts quietly, manifesting with a green shiver. "His surgery is going fine."

"Fine?" Dean chokes. "He’s been in there for almost two hours. What the fuck? Your implantation took fucking 10 minutes."

"My implantation took far longer," Castiel corrects, "and at any rate, his process is much more complex this time. The act of installing one AI has already been perfected - no one has attempted the use of a second AI before."

Dean throws his hands up in the air, “Fucking great!” he shouts at the surgeons through soundproofed glass. “Glad to know that you have no fucking idea what you’re doing!”

"Dean," Castiel admonishes, like Dean is a fucking child throwing a tantrum, "I assure you, your brother is being treated with the utmost care."

Dean snorts a laugh. “Somehow, ‘the Director’ and ‘care’ don’t seem like compatible concepts.” He runs a hand through his hair, sighing out his nose. “It’s just… two AI? Doesn’t that seem a little, I don’t know, much? One AI is pretty damn annoying, I bet two are fucking awesome.” There is a metallic ping, a beep that could have been a cough if it had vocal chords. “Um. Present company excluded.”

"Thank you." Castiel moves to the window, hands behind his back. "I do not pretend to know the Director’s thought processes, but I am certain that if there is anyone fit to bear the burden of two AI, particularly these two, it is your brother."

There’s something very sinister about Castiel’s emphasis on “these” two. A stone forms in the pit of Dean’s stomach, an icy shot of fear lacing up his spine. “What the hell does that mean? Which AIs is Sam getting?”

"Agent California is to receive both the Lucifer program and the Michael program," Castiel reads off of his information log. "I know them very well. They are very… intense. Lucifer is total chaos; Michael, total control. Theoretically, they should cancel each other’s traits out, and work together to achieve a far greater efficiency than they would have had apart."

"I’m gonna need a lot fucking better than ‘theoretically,’ Cas - that’s my brother in there, not some goddamn lab rat." Every instinct in him is screaming to get his brother out of there. There’s something fishy about this whole situation, and it’s making him twitchy. Why would the director bump Sam up the implantation list? What’s the point in giving sam two AI? Just because he’s been outperforming Colorado and Nevada? but when Wisconsin got hers, she had been behind even Illinois. There’s something really fucked up about all of this. 

"Unfortunately," Castiel fades away, "This is all that I have."

Dean sighs. “Thanks a lot, Cas. Real fucking helpful.”


End file.
